The Return Of Dumbledore
by sprinklesoverglass
Summary: One Shot. Girl visits JKR. Entails: Alcohal. Yolts. The return of Dumbledore. Superstealth moves. Old women. Fat guys who look like Vince Vaughn. Please read. :


**I decided to write this story while I was at work. I was setting something up, and it was a no-brainer, so I started ranting about JKR killing off Dumbledore. Then I decided to write a one-shot(possibly) story of how I got Dumbledore back. I might do a Sirius too. And some other nonsense. This won't make any sense to you, I can assure you. But you might find it entertaining.**

**So, anyway, on to the quizcave!

* * *

**

A tall girl, about seventeen, with jagged, shoulder length, turquoise hair and a worn out, graffited leather jacket, stepped out of a backalley in London. She looked both ways--safety first--down the street, and when she was satisfied there were no cars that were going to run her over, she stepped onto the street like a woman with a mission. Which, she was.

_SCREEEEEEEEECH!_ A large truck came zooming down the road, swerving this way and that. She froze in the middle of the road, petrified. She stared at the car, wide-eyed.

The car swerved around her and kept going. She turned around to look back at the car. It was the most beautiful truck she had ever seen.

She shook her head and stepped onto the other side of the street. She shook her bangs out of her face and narrowed her eyes, looking around. Seeing no one, she stepped silently into the apartment building to her right.

She dodged, dipped, ducked, dived, and dodged her way across the lobby, seen by no one.

**DUN DUN DUN-NUH!**

She reached the stairwell and looked around, making sure she wasn't being followed. She bounded up the steps, three and a half stairs at a time.

"WOAH there, sweetums!" an old lady with a white bun on top of her head said. She was wearing a white hairnet, like a cafeteria lady. And she was wearing a blue dress with yellow cats on it, and she had a cane. "What are you doing, running up the stairs so fast?"

"Oh, I'm running up to JKR's temporary apartment because I have a plan to get Dumbledore back! Also, and this is just between you and me, I think she's up to some funny business in there, if you get my drift. Well, I'll see you!" the eager girl said, continuing on her journey. The old woman stared after her as if she were crazy--which, of course, she was.

Finally, eighteen flights of stairs later, Paige threw open the door and stumbled out of the stairwell, gasping for breath.

"Oh, fuck, that was a lot of stairs!" she said, falling to her knees and leaning against the wall. She caught her breath and lept back up to her feet. She ran down the hall, her feet going _'Pah!Pah!Pah!'_ on the cheap carpet.

"A-ha!" she cried when she reached the apartment at the end of the hall. She kicked open the door with her Sid-Vicious boots, which were half-way melted on the bottom.

"I've caught you, JKR! I demand you make Dumbledore come back to life and stop with the dodgy business!" she cried dramatically.

"Huh?" said a balding man with a beer belly, who looked oddly like Vince Vaughn, only gone to seed.

"Who are you? Are you JKRs shifty-business dealer? Are you! YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, YOUNG MAN!" Paige yelled shrilly.

"Oh, another one of you nutters. JK Rowling's secret apartment is on floor three."

Paige nodded in thanks and dashed back out of the apartment, down the hall, and to the stairwell. She started running down the staircase, only to trip and fall the rest of the way down. Deciding that that was fun, she threw herself down the next fifteen staircases, until she had finally reached a staircase that said 'Floor 3'.

She scrambled out the door and down the hall, stopping at apartment 'Three B'. She threw open the door and looked around, wanting to be sure it was the right one this time.

The first thing she noticed was JKR sitting in a corner, knitting. Then she noticed the ugly bedspread. It was after having surveyed the room silently for a few moments, she noticed the odd thing.

There were about fifty Unicorn Colts, or as I like to call them, Yolts. Only these weren't your average, every day, shimmery gold Yolts--oh, no! JKR had done something to them.

"How could you!" Paige shrieked, surveying the yolts.

"I thought they might like it better this way..." JKR said meekly.

"YOU DYED THE YOLTS!" she screamed, her eyes popping out of her skull.

For, she had. The yolts were a variety of colors, ranging from the baby blue one with powder-pink hair to the brown one with white triangles on its legs.

"WHAT! THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO BE GOOOOOOOOLD!" the girl howled, staring at the famed author in horror.

Before JKR could explain that dying their fur didn't hurt the yolts, the teenager burst into tears. A few weres were audible, and they included "Yolt...colors...Dumbledore..._Yolts_!"

"I'll give you one of my Yolt Fur Coats if you stop crying!" JKR said. Paige wailed louder.

"Your making Yolt Coats! Noooo! Cruel, cruel woman!" she screamed.

Suddenly, the yolts burst into song.

"Cruella de Rowling! Cruella de Rowling!

Stealing our fur and making us look really foolish!

We walk around butt naked now

For you steal out fur to wear Cruella de Rowling! Cruel--"

Paige interrupted their song by throwing her hands in the air.

"Wait! Wait! Wait a minute! I like SKA and PUNK, not DISNEY MUSIC!" She said, although she did like some Disney music. Just not this particular song.

"Oh..." said a violet yolt with a lavender mane and tail.

Suddenly, they burst into a better song.

Three yolts-Pale Yellow, Pastel Green, and Baby Pink-started playing their trumpets. A chartreuse yolt started playing his trombone with a passion, and a slightly obese lavender yolt started tooting on a tuba. An orange yolt with a green mowhawk started banging on his drums, and a white yolt with black and yellow shaggy hair started singing into a microphone with a hoarse, calm voice.

"Well, Rowling stole all our fur

and we ain't into that

But it'll grow back

We won't attack

We'll just annoy the shit out of her."

And with that lovely opening note, they burst into a ska song worthy of Sublime.

The yolts started a mosh pit, and JKR started hardcore-dancing, so they all mauled her.

Then, after a number of songs, they pulled out a few bottles of booze and got themselves a serious case of the Gin Giggles.

"So, JKR. I really think it would be super-cool if you made Dumbledore come back to life!" Paige said to a thoroughly wasted J.K.Rowling.

"Yeah? Yeah? You think so? Well...me too! OK!" JKR screeched and reached for her type writer. She started typing frantically, and suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

A fiery red yolt with pink hair opened the door for him.

"DUMBLEDORE!" the yolt bleeted happily, tossing him a brandy.

"Why, thank you, Miss Yolto," he said, his eyes twinkling blindingly, like they always did. You would think being dead put a stop to the twinkling, but whatever.

"Hey, Dumbledore!" JKR shouted.

"You know, JoAnne, I am getting quite annoyed with that. I have a first name you know. Why on earth everyone calls me Dumbledore is beyond me. I have feelings too, you know! Just because my father beat me and forced me not to show emotions because they are for the weak doesn't mean I don't want you to call me by my first name! I like the name Draco--I mean, Albus!" he said, his eyes tearing up and twinkling at the same time.

"OK, Albus."

* * *

Paige led the yolts out of JKR's apartment and to the lobby, where they dodged, dipped, ducked, dove, and dodged their way to the door.

Once they were satisfied with their stealth work, they ran to the Portkey and escaped to a little pub in Britain where all the good bands played. It was a mosh pit like no one had ever seen before. Mostly because none of the people at that bar had seen yolts before.

The next morning, she let the colorful yolts go in the forbidden forest.

* * *

Dumbledore, having been restored in his position, thanks to Paige, Yolts, music, and booze, stepped out of his fireplace and into his office, where Harry was having a fit and screaming and throwing his shit all over the place. Which was getting to be an annoying habit of The Boy Who Just Wouldn't Die's.

* * *

JKR woke up the next morning with a pounding headache.

She didn't recall anything from the night before. All she had to go by was the Polaroid sitting on her bedside table of a colorful herd of yolts, one blue-haired girl, one Professor Albus Dumbledore, and herself.

"Well, shit."


End file.
